Discovered in Hiding
by ScarletCougar
Summary: Voldemort is dead. The war is over. There were losses on both sides. Wounded and in need of hiding, Draco is placed in witness protection under Hermione's care, in the muggle world. Will he be discovered and killed? What else will be discovered?
1. Prologue  Muggle Hospital

**Discovered in Hiding**

**Ch. 1: At the Muggle Hospital of Oxford, England**

The war had barely ended. The Death Eaters were still running around and wreaking havoc. At least they no longer crossed into the muggle world so much and kept to tormenting people in the wizarding world. They were scattered. Their leader, Lord Voldemort, had finally been killed, for good this time. Their ranks fought internally for order as the some aimed to take control and be the new dark Lord. At least this would keep them somewhat busy, while everyone else rebuilt their lives and healed from the terrible wounds and traumas they incurred.

Hearts hurt from the losses of dear friends and close family. Minds were haunted by the bloody battles that tore through homes, institutions, and even Hogwarts School. Bodies pained from the wounds, stitched and bandaged. Harry and Ginny and Hermione sat quiet in the hospital waiting room, a muggle hospital. Hermione stared down at her hands as if she could still see the blood there. Ron's blood had mixed with Draco's on her hands only a couple weeks ago. Ginny still cried on Harry's shoulder for her brother, Ron. One of the great heroes who did not make it. His funeral was last week.

Draco, lay in the hospital room with a few doctors and a police officer who served both the muggle and wizarding world. Some heroes survived. Draco's survival was thread thin, though. He had to be moved as many of six times as Lucius made several attempts to wipe the taint from his family. In a muggle hospital, relative safety was found for Draco. He never would have thought himself a hero. But for his secret keeper, for a chance at her happiness in this terrible war, he took the ultimate risk. Now he lay, paying the price for it.

Ginny could stand it no longer and stood up wiping her eyes. "He did everything he could to save Ron and all they are doing is staring at him!" She stormed towards the room where doctors and the officer spoke quietly over Draco's bed.

"Gin! Ginny, no!" Harry bounced to his feet and caught her before she made yet another scene.

Hermione took in a shaking breath. Ron and her had a silly yet loving chat about getting married after they finished school, after the war. Now he was gone. "Sit down, Ginny. They are discussing how to keep him safe, probably working on some kind of witness protection program or something. Change his identity and make it harder for them to find him." She was his secret keeper, a secret she wasn't sure she should keep any longer though. Why bother? They all know now he was a Death Eater, and that he never wanted to be. But that was only half the secret she kept. The other half gnawed inside her.

… … …

_They stood screaming at each other in their private lounge room for Head boy and Head girl. Hermione demanded he get more involved with the students as is right for the role of Head Boy. He snarled back that he would not. She screamed her frustrations as he yelled that she didn't understand a thing about purebloods, especially HIS family. _

"_Then educate this poor mudblood," she growled back threatening to throw a spell at him with her wand._

"_Then I would need a secret keeper." His whole expression suddenly changed as he realized the opportunity. "You have no idea how badly I want to tell someone. But I can't. They would kill me. They would kill anyone I told. He would kill me personally. But… you… you can keep a secret. Because if it would risk hurting Potter or Weasley, you would keep it." It was a huge risk. He had held the façade of enemy for so long, clinging to calling her mudblood to maintain her hate. "Granger," He rephrased his thoughts, "Hermione, will you be my secret keeper?"_

_His secret keeper! Hermione could not believe this. But he was right, if he asked anyone else, they might blab it or hold things against him, use whatever his secrets were to climb the ladder of popularity over him. This would give her the power over him she might need when the time came. "Fine." She dug out a book and looked up the proper vow and spell to be that. The spell put up a pure silencing about the room so no one could overhear or witness the secret._

_After swearing to be this, she looked at him with her arms crossed, expectantly. He pushed up his sleeve and exposed the dark Mark upon his forearm. "That is it? Hell, everyone knows you are a Death Eater, Malfoy."_

"_No one knows that I don't want to be. That I had no choice. That I would do anything to protect my mother from … from everything, and have. I am just not strong enough to free her, or myself."_

_She stared shocked at what she heard. Now she understood. If Harry and Ron knew Draco was on their side, they would treat Draco differently. That would give away the secret and get them all killed, certainly get Draco killed. He looked away from her almost ashamed, cheeks slightly red._

"_I can't not do what my father tells me to. I just… can't. And I can't tell anyone else why. I want to tell, I needed to tell… someone." He swallowed. On the roll of exposure, he needed to show her why he feared so much, for his fear was now plain on his face and he could see she knew. He undid his shirt and dropped it onto the floor, then pulled his undershirt over his head to let it also fall to the floor. She started to protest to his stripping before her, but he ignored her. He undid his belt and shoved his pants down to pool around his ankles. He stood only in his boxers._

_Hermione's eyes looked from all the perfectly well placed bruises in locations you would never see or suspect because clothing hid it so well. The beatings plain in the bruises old and new on his upper arms, shoulders, back, torso, thighs and hips. The hip bruises showed where fingers had grabbed him and held him by force. He could not find the words to explain what did this, but she knew. She had seen this before. She had treated these kinds of hurts before, right down to the violations. Dumbledore must have known. He had once told her that Draco and Harry had more in common than she could ever expect. "Who raped you, Draco. Who did this?"_

"_How do you… know?"_

_Harry did not make her keep his experiences a secret, "Because Harry often had the same from his cousin Dudley. Who is doing this to you?" She felt a wellspring of self-righteous anger at Dumbledore. How could he have known this and not done anything to stop it? Draco could have been a very different person, even an ally, or maybe even a friend._

"_My father." He pulled on his clothes, cheeks burning in complete humiliations._

"_Draco…"_

_He stepped away from her attempt at comfort that came far too late for his need. "If I ever find the courage, if I ever get the chance, if ever my mother will not pay for my deceit… I'll not take a life if I can help it. But I will not hold back otherwise. We are enemies. But if I get the chance, I'll turn… If you can help me. Will you, " he swallowed, hating that he sounded like he was begging, but it tore from his soul to his mouth and out anyways, "Will you please, help me?"_

_For the first time, Draco was truly naked before her, fragile, and deeply scared and lonely. She took courage and embraced him. He melted into her arms and wept on her shoulder. _

_The next day, you would never have known he had unmasked himself and gave up his deepest secrets to her._

… … …

Hermione stared back down at her hands again. Draco had begged for her help. He gave up everything for that one chance he thought he had to turn sides and protect them, save their lives.

… … …

_Hermione struggled against Bellatrix in the upper room. A Death eater bolted out the room and down the stairs. She could hear Ron screaming for her, not knowing where she was. She dared not respond despite Bellatrix trying to coax her to. It was a trap. Three other death Eaters waited to kill Ron when he entered. _

"_I am one of you!" Draco yelled at the running Death Eater, exposing to the man his Dark Mark on his arm. The Death Eater seemed stalled just briefly. Wand poised as he debated blasting the student before him as he had several others. _

_Ron's spell streaked over Draco's shoulder and hit the man. "That's twice I've saved you, Malfoy," sneered Ron._

"_Hermione is up there, but it is a trap." Draco hoped Ron was figuring this out. Draco had just learned of his mother's own death and had no reason now to try to do anything to protect her. But he could save Hermione. "Protect the stairs, Ron. I think I can get her. I'll bring her back to you."_

"_You had better, or we'll kill you."_

"_If I don't, come back with a lot more help, then I hope you do kill us all." Draco took the stairs two at a time and rounded the corner. He ducked at the oncoming spells. "Dammit! I just had that argument! Bellatrix! I am on YOUR side! They are coming up the stairs!" Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Draco entered the room holding Hermione's eyes. He was glad for all the fighting with Harry, it made him faster at attacking and defending. His shots aimed true. Bellatrix dodged out of sight. He grabbed her arm, "Run! Ron's down the stairs!" Bellatrix was summoning more Death eaters to get them. "RUN!"_

_They ran down the stairs, but only got halfway. Draco grabbed her and slammed her against the wall out of the way, "DOWN RON! DOWN!" But it was too late, the blasts hit him and he crashed into a broken and bleeding heap at the bottom of the long staircase._

"_You traitor, Draco!" Bellatrix threw a spell at Hermione and he shielded her, but lost his wand when his hand got hit._

_Draco's weighed held Hermione to the wall. She could see his wand skittering and bounding and breaking with the impact of the spell till it lay in many pieces in Ron's blood. "When I say run," he whispered, "don't stop till you get to Harry. I couldn't save you both, but I will save you." She nodded, not yet gripping the reality of Ron's death. She needed to get away and warn Harry of the Death Eaters arrive through here. Draco was going to give her as much chance as possible. His body jerked as Bellatrix's face appeared over his shoulder. His body jerked again as she stepped away raising a small three pronged spike, like a hand held trident. Blood coated it and she licked it seductively. Hermione pressed her wand into Draco's hand and nodded to him. "Run." His word threw her into action. This was war, and she was the last chance at a warning. _

_She slid in Ron's blood with a shriek. Harry's hands caught her. Ten other's on their side backed Harry. She turned swiftly to look up the stairs to Draco. Bellatrix had a fistful of his hair, the other fist held the three-pronged weapon embedded in Draco's throat. Hermione's scream never registered. His last act was to pour what he had left in him, the scraps of emotion and need and will through Hermione's wand, lit bright and white in a flash as it connected with Bellatrix when she released his hair to fire a spell with her own wand at Hermione. _

_Harry knew this scene. He had seen it through former memories of his mother with all her love poured into a last desperate act to save his life, let it out in such a similar flash. It left him wondered what secret emotions Draco held for Hermione. Bellatrix was destroyed by it. Had harry not thrown a levitation spell to catch Draco, he might have tumbled down the stairs to his death next to Ron._

_Everyone else rushed up the stairs like a sea of wizards and witched of varying ages to swarm the Death Eaters emerging from the room. Harry levitated Draco to the safety of the bottom of the stairs. He wanted to shed more for Ron or hug Hermione, scream his losses for sure, but the fight was still on and if he did not join in now, more would die._

_Hermione sank down. Her wand was somewhere up the stairs where Draco had dropped it. Ron lay dead beside her. Draco at her feet. They both died to protect her, to save her. Tears well up and poured down her cheeks. She leaned down and kissed Ron goodbye. Her hand hesitated over Draco and she choked out a thank you for her life. When his body shuddered in his sudden struggle to breathe around the blood and metal in his throat, she gasped in surprise. Muggle first aid training kicked in as she prevented him from pulling the weapon out of his throat. He might bleed to death more swiftly otherwise. For now, though, he could not breathe. She fumbled through her robes and pulled out a pen. A curt apology and she stabbed it into the lower part of his throat, into his windpipe. Air rushed through the makeshift tube into his lungs in desperate repetitions. His eyes locked onto hers till the world vanished into the terrifying darkness of unconsciousness for Draco._

_Wizarding hospitals and doctors treated him. Lucius, somehow informed of his son's deceit, made effort after effort to attack the hospital and kill his son. They had moved Draco from location to location. Finally he was moved to a muggle hospital. No attack came for a whole week. Draco remained hooked to life support with tubes for breathing, nourishment, and blood. _

_... ... ...  
_

Hermione sat thinking. If everyone was quiet, they could hear the conversation within the room. The doctors discussed removing the tubes since Draco was finally stabilized. The officer discussed possible ways to place Draco in hiding. She stood and calmly walked into the room. She owed it to Draco who risked his life to save her. "Officer. He can't just go into hiding. He needs protection, active magical protection. At least until he can speak again and cast his own magic to protect himself."

A doctor stepped forward, she already knew he was a muggle, but his son was in Ginny's classes at Hogwarts. She could be candid with him. He chose to be equally candid in return. "I don't think he will ever be capable of that. He'll heal, but speak? I doubt it. Maybe years from now. Maybe."

"How about," She was going to do it, hate herself for betraying Ron, but too many still hated Draco and would not agree to this assistance. He was here after all because no one would shelter him. "How about that new identity. Jake Granger, newly married to Melanie Granger. Attacked while on a research expedition. Moved back to England to recuperate and re-evaluate their young lives... He saved my life. I owe it to him to try to save his."

The officer had similar ideas in mind but no one he could think of that he could trust with Draco. "Understand Miss Granger, this is for possibly a very long time. You are only maybe seventeen years old."

She cut him off before he went on, "War steals one's childhood, so don't give me that crap about being too young to consider the consequences of my actions."

"Very well, Miss… Mrs. Granger. I will have the proper papers drawn up and your new home established. It is such a good thing you are so well connected in the muggle world." He left to do just as he planned.

She looked at the wraith under the sheets on the hospital bed, oblivious to the decisions being made about his life without his input. She suspected he would not take it well when he figured it all out. He can make other suggestions himself later. This would get him protected now.

She turned and left the room, running right into Harry who wrapped his arms around her, anticipating her next actions. Her knees weakened as she wept finally. Ginny and he had overheard her offer. "We'll help. We won't ever be too far."

* * *

A/N – This fic might be very slow coming with chapters. I am bogged with much homework. I just needed to get the initial idea out of my head as a prologue before it got lost.


	2. Moving to Reading

**Discovered in Hiding**

**Ch. 2: Moving Into Reading**

Harry met with Hermione at the Royal Berkshire Hospital, where Draco had been moved to next in preparation for the move to a home. The last bags for the move filled the trunk. "Your parents are already there moving in the furniture. It's a good house. I think it is about an hour or so from your father's work." Harry tried to give Hermione the key highlights. "The railway station will take you right to London if you need. There are several malls for shopping, even Seersway Alley. That's a little like Diagon Alley or at least they are trying to be. I'll show you how to get there after you are all settled in. There's an Aviation museum if you want to really confuse Draco." He smirked trying to ease the tension and stress of this whole affair. "Here's the real kicker. There are lots of schools and even a university. Mrs. Granger is now Professor Melanie Granger of Ancient and Medieval History. You are an understudy of Professor Stanton at the University of Reading. Pardon if I will forever be amused by the name of this city."

Hermione made a face at Harry. He helped her help Draco into the car. Draco still bore the bandages and stitches about his neck and in the back where he had been stabbed, even after two more weeks in hospital. He could walk, but was so drugged against the pain that he had no balance and wasn't very aware of his surroundings.

Draco's medication was starting to wear off when they reached the house. The front yard was sizable and plain with just grass and a small young tree that had been freshly planted. There was no garden as of yet. The driveway led to a large garage with two cars already clogging its entrance. Hermione recognized her father's car as one of them. Harry informed her that the other was her car. There was a side door to the house that had a moving truck parked up to it. The house itself was plain and simple with two floors. The main floor was much larger than the upper floor. The roof of the main floor served as round running balcony to the second floor.

Draco definitely was not pleased with the arrangement. It hurt his dignity a great deal. Not only could he not really take care of himself at the moment or do magic, he was being thrust into the foreign world of muggles and worse, thrust into a peasant or commoner's home where he would have no servants. He had no idea how to live like that, at the mercy of other and yet obliged to fend for himself in the basics of life. He understood the danger he was in, and that all this was necessary. But he sure didn't have to like it, didn't have to like feeling as if he were a burden tying Hermione down.

He watched hollowly as Hermione hugged her parents and was drawn into the house for a tour by her mother. Harry carried in the baggage from the trunk leaving Draco to make his own shaky way to the house from the car. He was met at the door by Hermione's father. "Good to see you on your feet, young man." He guided Draco on a small tour of the house seeming very aware of Draco's energy or lack thereof. "Sitting room and den to the left. Dining room and kitchen to the right. Laundry and bathroom at the back." He pointed out the back door at the large backyard. To Draco everything was small, all too small. Her father led Draco up the stairs. "The master bedroom is here on the left. It has its own access to the bathroom. It will be your room. My daughter's room is right across the hall. There is a spare room here that might make a good guest room. The doors at the end of each hall lead to the balcony outside."

In Draco's mind, the house was small, but defensible. There was no way to approach it without notice. Neighbours were not too far either. He teetered a little and was caught by the arm and guided to sit in a chair in the master bedroom. "I know this is hard. This war has been hard on everyone. I hope this is a good enough hiding place for you both. Draco. I am trusting you with my daughter. She means the world to me. Please, look out for her. She needs to stay hidden as much as you do. She just doesn't think so." This Draco could understand. Hermione was headstrong and often forgot safety in her rush to know and do things. Draco might be wounded now, but he won't be forever. This father, this incredibly loving father, wanted his daughter as safe as Draco's mom wanted him safe. He met the man's eyes and put his hand on the almost shy shoulder. Draco hoped her father understood the intention that he would do his best.

Hours later, after his next dose of painkiller wore off, after the noise of moving had faded with the people, Draco sat on the back side of the balcony surveying the yard. It seemed so barren compared to his estate. He corrected himself. _I am now Jake Granger. I have no claim to the Malfoy estate, at least not till my father is dead. I can't believe they arranged for me to take HER name! A muggle name!_ This was stranger than strange for him. He was just eighteen and now married to of all people Hermione Granger, now Melanie Granger. Those were the names they would use in public.

They were married on paper, living a lie to save their lives. Married, but they would not share a room. It was a reminder that they were not really that close. He doubted his last acts made up for any of the shameful things he did to them all growing up.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder as Hermione stepped beside him and leaned on the balcony railing. "Supper is ready. Do you feel like trying some real food?" She wanted to try to be friends, but all she felt was awkward. His silence only made the awkwardness pronounced. She wondered what kind of person he would be. Would he be the asshole he had always been, out of habit? Would he be like he was in the shared rooms of Head Boy and Head Girl? Would he behave as he would have in his own home? What was that like? Or would she see the sides of Draco no one ever saw? The real Draco deep down inside, whoever that was?

* * *

A/N – Got tired of editing a book review for an academic journal. Yay! I will be published… for something kinda dumb, but beggars cannot be choosers.


	3. Dark Hermit

**Discovered in Hiding**

**Ch. 3: Dark Hermit**

For three weeks, Draco had hardly even gone downstairs to the main floor. The pain medication kept him too woozy. For three weeks he suffered the humiliation of being partially an invalid and being cared for by Hermione Granger of all people. Unable to speak, all he could do is listen to her, when she chose to talk to him. That was rarely in the first week. Things were tense, uncomfortable, and awkward. Nothing ran on magic here either. Hermione seemed to do everything from the cooking to the cleaning to moving furniture around into better positions. Draco did know whether this was a punishment for either of them or not. He was sure it felt like torture, for them both.

He sat still while she taped a new bandage over his stitches in the back where Bellatrix has stabbed him. He had coughed blood a few days ago and spent a night in hospital to be reminded not to try to speak and that healing is not an overnight affair. Draco grew bored, then melancholy. Hermione kept busy, reading and preparing for this new job she had training under a professor at the local university. She never stopped, never took a pause. It was the same when they shared a tower as Head Boy and Head Girl.

She came to his room the night before her first day at work. A single candle was burning while he sat in a chair and stared out his window. "We have lights, Draco. You just flip this switch here." She indicated the lights witch, but he hardly paid attention. "Why don't you read something? I have lots of book here, even some magical ones." Draco barely shook his head. "You can't just brood up here forever. You are not the only one who lost things!" She stamped out and down the stairs.

Draco hung his head. He knew he was a poor substitute for her Ron, at least in her eyes. Enemies, crashed together in brief moments often in anger, now he was at her mercy, a pathetic weakling. He hardly considered himself a man. He was disgusted with himself. He didn't even bother to shave today. All he really had were his thoughts. Everything here was borrowed from the Ministry or Hermione's family. The rest belonged to Hermione. Nothing here was really his. Nothing was familiar or comfortable. He didn't even have a means to communicate.

Several minutes after he heard the kettle whistle in the kitchen downstairs, Draco heard Hermione return to her room and close the door, probably with some tea. He wanted tea, too. But how could he possibly ask? No servant was going to just bring him some either. He would have to get it himself.

He pinched the candle, dousing the room in darkness. Every muscle tensed. He could not really bear total darkness. It reminded him of those creatures that sucked the light from within you till you despaired and died. It reminded him of the tortures Voldomort inflicted. He stepped into the light of the second floor hallway and stopped. He could hear Hermione crying behind her door. It twisted in his gut. How often was it that his mother hid in her room so he would not see her crying? He lifted his hand to the door handle, the higher to knock. What could he really offer her? He was not the man she loved. She was married to him, but that was just a lie on paper for the muggles.

His only ventured to the main floor downstairs have been for dinner and that was never alone. He stood at the bottom of the stairs considering the total weirdness of having to enter a kitchen and serve himself. He had never been in a kitchen, not even his own in his estate. He had no idea of wizard kitchen and muggle kitchens were similar or different. It was house elf domain. Then he remembered Hermione's huge campaign one year at Hogwarts against house elf slavery. Not having one now made Draco appreciate them all of a sudden. He figured Hermione would save Lucius the trouble and just kill him if he suggested they get a house elf.

He walked into the kitchen. The kettle still steamed with the hot water. That was a HUGE relief. He had no idea how to boil water without magic. He opened and closed cupboards till he found his tea and a mug. In the process he discovered the fridge and freezer. He thanked whatever guided him to open it and discover milk there. He hated how Hermione had tea with nothing in it. However he had no way of explaining to her how he liked his tea, with two dollops of milk and a spoon of sugar. _Tea… black… was she from America or something?_

By the time he finished preparing his tea and heading to the stairs with it, he was too tired to climb them. There was internal humiliation for needing to sit on the stairs to sip his tea. He was glad no one saw his base behaviour. Then again, it was terribly lonely. He looked to the dining room, pitch dark at this hour. The fireplace kept a flickering light in the living room and den. He felt like a stranger in a foreign home. He sipped his tea alone.

He tried not to think. His thoughts were as dark as the dining room. Hermione was right. They had all lost things. Draco lost… everything. He wished she could see that. She still had friends and family, even a home to go to if she wanted to. He had no friends. His mother had been killed by his own father, who now wanted him dead too. He was exiled from his estate and thus anything that might be his own. He even lost the ability of magic with no wand and no capacity to speak. He gripped the tea cup so hard in his frustration that it broke. Half the tea that was left in it now coated his hands, his lap and the floor. He hyperventilated a little to prevent himself from shedding any tears, though he wanted to scream.

"Draco?" Hermione was half way down the stairs at the sound of the cup breaking and hitting the floor, wand ready in her hand. She sighed once she reached where he was. "Vessillis reparo." The cup jumped and reformed itself whole again.

That was the last straw for Draco. He stood and shoved past her. He slammed his bedroom door. Why did she have to use magic? Was she flaunting that she could? It was infuriating. It was frustrating. It emphasized that he could not.

Hermione cleaned up the cup and spilt tea. This was going to be a bad night apparently. They had had a few over the last week. They usually ended in him throwing things in his room. She refused to pick anything from those tantrums. She wished he could speak and tell her what was bothering him. She quietly returned to her room planning on getting him a little notebook or maybe a laptop to write on so he could communicate somehow. She chastised herself for not thinking of this sooner. Having this new mission helped her feel a little better. Also, she would be in a school tomorrow. That was exciting.

His dark mood only seemed darker compared to her light one and vice versa.

* * *

A/N – Both darkness and light are the masks they use to hide behind.

A/N – please review. Reviews keep writers writing. That goes for any fics you read her on fanfic . net


	4. Left Behind

**Discovered in Hiding**

**Ch. 4: Left behind**

His dark mood only seemed darker compared to her light one and vice versa.

Hermione listened to the slamming, banging and crashing in the room across the hall. More than once she thought it would have been wiser to give him the smaller room. There would be less to wreck. Thankfully, his pride made him put it as right as he could after. Draco would tire himself out soon enough. He still had so much healing to do, so much strength yet to recoup. She looked over her shoulder to the door at the sound of a bookcase crashing down. A book hit the wall shortly after and so she knew he was alright and still venting. She selected a paper and started a list.

_Thank Doctor Froydel for correcting the obliviate curse I had inflicted on Mum and Dad_

_Thank all the doctors who helped heal Draco and make him sign as well, as Jake Granger_

_Provide him with a notebook till I can set up a computer for him_

_Teach him how to use the kitchen and living room muggle electronics and appliances_

_Buy more medication for Draco's pain_

_Meet with Professor Stanton and get to know my duties as Understudy_

_Call the Weasley's as find out how they are doing_

There was a pop and shatter noise. She sighed. He must have hit the light bulb and broke it. It grew quiet in the house. At that she stood and opened her door then his. His room was a wreck. "Draco?" He sat on the bed shaking. "Are you done?"

At her annoying request that made him sound like a child having a temper tantrum, he almost threw the nearest thing at her. Not that it would have been the first, nor would it have been the last time he threw something at her. He decided not to. She would close the door and leave him in the dark and he couldn't bear that. The dark held too many terrible memories and dreams. Dumbledore dying and falling from the tower by Snape's curse, the one Draco could not cast. Nagini, Voldemort's giant serpent devouring the witch who taught Muggle Studied at Hogwarts. Voldemort had killed her over the dinner table. They all sat and watched. They all watched the serpent feed. Draco could not eat the meal that was served immediately after. The tortures in the dungeon, the ones inflicted recently on the Lovegood's mixed and blurred with the experiments his father inflicted on him when Draco displeased Lucius in some way.

Hermione almost left but for Draco's shaking and a strange hollow terror lingering in his eyes. "I'll help you. But you really need to stop doing this. I can't fix the light. You will have to live without it now till I can get someone in here who can fix it. That will take time to find someone we trust." She sighed again. "It is late, I really wish … I have my new job tomorrow. I just…" she sighed again. Not like Draco would care. He was always self-centered. Fits like this were only continued evidence that he felt the world still revolved around him.

In silence they righted the larger pieces of furniture. She helped clear the glass. The rest would be up to him. She went to bed, leaving his door open a crack for some light till he finished tidying the rest. Once she was changed for bed and she padded back from the washroom to her room, she turned out the hall light. A little light sensitive plug-in night light illuminated.

Draco exhaustedly put the books on the shelf, and the other foreign items into the places he remembered them being in. It looked like a room again, but still was so not his. Muggle this and muggle that littered the spaces. Pictures on the wall were still, static, dead of the lived and souls they should have captured. Hermione's shadow crossed his door with the slight swish of her night gown. As her door closed, the hall light blinked out. His room grew dark again. Too dark. The faint light from some secret source was all that told him where his door was. He changed into sleeping clothes by that dimness, but could not sleep.

The next morning, Hermione found Draco curled on the floor in the hallway at the top of the stairs by the little night light. She wondered what on earth would cause him to abandon his personal dignity to do that, sleep on the floor like a house elf. She knelt and touched his shoulder.

He sat bolt up. A few second made him aware of the situation. He had fully intended to be back in his own room at dawn, before she would ever see his childishness. His sneer of indignation flashed with a fiery red blush across his face. She shoved her back and retreated to his room.

"Fine! Fend for yourself you selfish GIT! I was trying to be nice!" she yelled through his door. "I'll be back in about nine hours. Don't ruin the house!" She grabbed her list and book bag.

The front door slammed and Draco heard nothing more from her. Did she really just leave? Did she really just abandon him in this muggle house in this muggle town. Did she really just leave him there alone and defenseless? How in Merlin's name was he supposed to survive the day? How would he get food? Who would clean up? What about fixing the light in his room? What if she was attacked out there? What if she was so mad at him she never came back? The car roared out of the drive way and he knew she was completely gone.

Panic sunk in hard and he ran from the room in his sleeping pants. He ran into her room. She definitely was not there. He ran down the stairs and checked every single room. He did not want to believe she left. He wasn't even sure what he had done to piss her off. He ran to the front door and skidded to a halt. The pause was brief. He flung open the door and ran onto the front porch. She was gone. The car was gone. She really did leave him.

The old man in the neighboring yard watered his little garden and looked at Draco over the fence. "Morning Mr. Granger. Women are touchy some mornings. Must have angered her something sure. She'll be back, though. Don't worry. Love will always bring them back."

Draco's cheeks burned with embarrassment. He was just caught… in his sleep pants… outside… like a peasant! By the neighbour! A neighbour who lives closer than his gardener's guest house! A neighbour who dared give him advice about his love life and marriage! He swiftly retreated back into the house. Mentally he repeated his name so as to remind himself who he was because being called Mr. Granger was a bit too much.

Something impacted with the door. Crookshanks then tore through the house snarling and plastered himself to the door digging a clawed paw through the mail slot. Steps sounded up the stairs. Someone laughed on the other side. "Well kitty, I've met meaner dogs than you. Don't go tearing the mail now." The stranger spoke as he pushed the mail in through the slot and Crookshanks grabbed it and took it up to Hermione's room.

The muggle world was completely insane. He cautiously opened the door and found that the newspaper had impacted with the door. Definitely, the muggle world was insane. Who in their right mind simply threw a newspaper at your door? Was it some kind of rude attack on the strange neighbors? And why would a human deliver the mail and not an owl? Honestly! He grabbed up the newspaper and slammed the door shut again before anyone else might see him.

He must have stood in that foyer an entire ten minutes trying to wrap his brain around the previous ten minutes. He ached to go home. But what home was there actually left? Voltemort had wrecked the estate in a fit of some fury. His mother was already dead. The estate likely sat in the hands of the government in trust till Lucius stopped this insanity and Draco could return home to reclaim his inheritance. That would be the likely outcome. Considering his mother's death and his father's crimes. The estate would fall to him. And right now he deeply missed it. He even missed the house elves.

She said she would be gone for nine hours. That meant she would be back. She had a job. It was her first day. A real job. He couldn't remember what kind of job, but figured it was something associated with the Ministry of Magic. What was he supposed to do for the next nine hours? If he thought he was bored and lonely before, this day gave him whole new meanings to both those words.

He ached all over from sleeping on the floor and from running around the house. Opening the curtains of his room to let in the light, he curled up in bed to try to sleep off some of the pain. The medicine bottle beside his bed was empty, so he had no choice. At least it was not dark.


	5. Back to School

**Discovered in Hiding**

**Ch. 5: Back to School**

Hermione had to reign herself in before she had a driving accident. Malfoy… Draco… He seemed to always stir the fury in her. And yet, she could never shake the scene from her mind of how he willingly gave his life to save her. He lived, lived by some mysterious luck. And Ron had not. As much as Ron hated Draco, there was a certain respect, and the sacrifice would demand honouring. Ron's spirit would never forgive her if she tossed that honour aside. It was what made Ron who he was. Foolish, head full of fluff, but brave and deeply honourable even in his silliness.

Draco too, in his way was honourable, in a strange noble kind of way she was unfamiliar with. She could hardly imagine what it might have been like to be of royal blood as Draco was. What his life must have been like. The pressure to be perfect and obedient came with a price. She remembered the bruises and the breaks, and the occasional night terrors that told of the rape and other tortures he endured whenever his father was displeased or testing new dark magic or simple… in a mood. No wonder he was too afraid to be anything but what his father expected of him. No wonder he was willing to die for a second of freedom.

She thought as she pulled into a parking space at the university how Draco must feel like a total prisoner now, trapped in muggleness with no understanding of how anything worked and no means to do the magic that runs through his very blood. In that moment, she forgave his irritability and outbursts. How else could he act after all? He had no way of telling her how he felt or what he wanted or didn't want. She checked her hair in the rear view mirror then stepped from the car.

The buildings of the university were of red brick and grey stone in similar architecture as some parts of Hogwarts. The grounds already bustled with summer students. She instinctively glanced to the sky in search of students on brooms practicing for quiddich. Of course there were none. There were however some fierce sports training and she paused thinking maybe when Draco is more comfortable, he might want to come watch.

She walked past the library and stopped. She had to tear her attention away and vowed to check it out later. Today, she needed to find the History Department and Professor Stanton. She had already researched the history of the school, memorized the map, and prepared her initial treatise on Medieval Misconceptions of Magic. It would be her understudy project with the professor. He taught the classes on Medieval Magic & Origins of the Witch Craze and Ritual, Myth & Magic. He had his hands in several languages, literature and archaeology. She had made sure to be well informed about her mentor and his past and present research. Minus the magic, she really was in her element. Walking through the building she noted that all schools smelled like schools. She smiled and found her way to the professor's office.

She left his office a few hours later with the most frustrating and infuriating evaluation she had ever had. "Mrs. Granger. You are the brightest student I have ever seen. Your grades outshine most graduate students. And this treatise is incredible. However, it is also very one-sided. You explore the notions of medieval magic and how the world seemed to envision it. But you fail to expose the misconceptions." The word fail was clear on her paper. She had never failed anything except Professor Trillawny's class. Fail. The professor had handed her a book to read about the misconceptions of magic and witchcraft in the middle ages. _Malleus Malificarum_. The Hammer of the Witches. He advised her that this was not a text for the faint of heart and was the main resource for the Burning times, a legacy of horror against witches. He could not believe she had overlooked such a valuable text. It was a total embarrassment to her skills in academia!

Demoralized she explored the library after a visit to the Administration Services for her ID card and to sign the final papers so she could be paid weekly. The library was everything she had hoped it would be and that cheered her some. The smell of old book soothed her completely. She was even thrilled to discover it had a Restricted Section just like at Hogwarts. She asked what lie within the Restricted section and who had access. At first she was turned away till they saw her ID card and apologized. She had access according to her position as understudy professor. She nearly squealed with glee before the librarian. The books in this area were restricted due to their age and the need for care. Some could only be viewed under special conditions and supervision.

Lunch on the grounds was lovely and not unlike Hogwarts. And the afternoon was spent researching to correct her failing. She left the grounds feeling more sure of her direction and more determined to meet the challenge put before her by her new mentor.

She glanced at her list before driving from the parking lot. She drove over to the nearby mall to do some shopping. She needed much more paper, pens and inks, parchments for style… oh yes, she intended to impress beyond words. The stationary store served all her needs for this. She bought several thank you cards as well, making sure no two were alike. She also commissioned formal stationary with Mr. Jake and Mrs. Melanie Granger upon it with their address. The print shop in the stationary store had it ready within the hour. While she waited she purchased several sizes of empty notebooks and journals, trying to have items as close to the old looking books from Hogwarts. Very pleased with these purchases, she left them in the car for the next very important bits of shopping.

She visited the local pharmacy to acquire more pain medication for Draco, along with some other needs she knew they were low on. Then she peaked into the computer store. She tried hard not to snicker to herself imagining Ron walking through here. He would be so lost in this muggle electronics, however his father would be positively thrilled. She bought a small MP3 player for him for the fun of it. He main purpose though was to shop for suitable laptop computers for both her and Draco and a decent printer along with other items she might need to supplement these.

It was like back to school shopping. She sat in the car and called the Weasley's to touch base with them and update them with how things were. They were still recovering from the multiple deaths in their family. She called Harry next. He was easier to speak with and more interested in what she was up to. He was up to his eyeballs in helping sort out the chaos of Hogwarts. The news back from both Harry and the Weasley's was that Lucius was still on the loose. The good news was that Harry would come by with Bill Weasley to establish new protections on the house.

She had so much to do tonight. Write the thank you notes, prepare a new update to her treatise after reading everything for it, and making sure she had whatever was necessary to host guests over in a few days. She was still struggling with how to manage the house and the finances. She had never lived on her own or had any notion of how to manage such things before. She groaned about this new task on her list as she pulled into the driveway. Damn, she still had to make dinner and teach Draco muggle stuff.

She sat in the car for many minutes trying not to be upset. This was just more than she knew how to handle. Taking many deep breaths, she started to make the many trips to and from the car into the house with her purchases.

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A/N – Thanks for the reviews. I am open to suggestions or ideas of how you might like to see the chapters unfold.


	6. Muggling Draco

**Discovered in Hiding**

**Ch. 6: Muggling Draco**

In the afternoon, Draco could stand the boredom no longer. He daringly explored the entire upstairs. The loo was like any other. Nothing new there from the last few weeks. His personal items were impeccably placed on a shelf. Hermione's personal effects made him shutter. Womanly… things… he made a disgusted face and closed the little cupboard. At least she did not leave her things lying about as he had expected. The one thing he could not stand was Crookshank's litter box in the bathroom. That was truly disgusting! Thank all the magic in the world, Hermione kept it spelled against foul smells and cleaned up after her foul tempered cat regularly. Using the light switch in there was now common for him. He wondered when that happened. Oh yeah, when he got stuck in there in the dark by accident in the first week.

The hall was familiar too, so he helped himself to Hermione's bedroom. He frowned seeing that in three weeks she had not unpacked really. Her clothing was folded or piled in her opened trunk and not in the dresser drawers. Did she think he would be a foul git and force her to run off? He winced. Hadn't he just been and done that this morning? Books were everywhere. She never stopped reading. He traced his hands over the spines of familiar Hogwarts texts. He touched her clothing and felt the texture of her bed. Simple yet soft, like his own. She was very careful not to leave anything of herself behind to be open for the taking. He hairbrush was perfectly clean like his own, for safety. There was a locked box by her bed. He smelled it. Smelled like paper inside, likely letters and photos. Nothing in her room really spoke of being home either save for a plush animal on her bed that must be nearly as old as Hermione. He sat on her bed and inhaled trying to see if the room smelled like her. It had a smell, but he didn't know if she smelled like it.

So foolish! He was married to her and knew nothing of her. If they were to pretend to be in love and wed and such, they needed to know things about each other. This was as much for her safety as it was for his own. He wondered if she felt as out of place as he did. Likely not. She was muggle born. Yet they were both barely eighteen and now considered husband and wife according to all legal paperwork. And why did they have to have him take HER name? Right, because Malfoy would totally defeat the purpose of hiding from his father. Lucius was probably murdering every muggle with the name.

He stepped into the spare bedroom or guest room. It felt more sterile than their bedroom. Pleasant, if you wanted a room at a bed and breakfast, but far from anything home-like. Was Hermione too scared to settle in?

He headed downstairs wincing now and then. His back was hurting a great deal. But he could not see or treat it if something was wrong. He decided to try to occupy his mind and continued exploring. The main floor was less familiar to him. He opened everything in the kitchen to see what was where. The cold box, fridge as she had called it, worked as well as the magical ones. The rest was exciting and forbidden at the same time. He was never allowed in the kitchen at home. It was where house elves did the magic of preparing food and such. He found the plates and cutlery and everything else that might be basically useful. He remembered these items from inventory lists he was taught to keep back at his estate. He doubted any of these were actual silver though. His stomach growled its need for food. He chose to ignore it. He was not done his exploration. The dining room was suitable. Not enough place settings or chairs for a proper family gathering, but then it was just them. He wondered if she had table manners beyond the basics seen in the Hogwarts dining hall.

He tested the light stitches and chose to leave all the lights on as he went. The living room was peasant-ish. Not enough rich wood showing. The fireplace served both the living room on one side and the den on the other. There were no pictures anywhere. If this were a family home, there would be family pictures. Paintings and photos of family and friends. Who would she put there? Likely her parents, though no such picture graced any room. Harry for sure and maybe even Ron to remember him. None could be found. Who would he put? He would like to put his mother, but that was risky. He didn't have anyone else. That left him feeling very alone. They would need pictures of each other to pull off their lie, too. The spells to create those were in his head and unable to come out. He fisted his hands in frustration.

He poked then at everything in the living room. The TV blared and blinked out then blared again. He hit several buttons but could not figure out the muggle contraption to shut it off or quiet it. He gave up and explored the den. Walls of book. A good solid desk. It looked like an excellent study. He could see papers upon it. Legal documents. Those he perused very carefully. Their marriage contract, their fake birth certificates. Their fake educational certifications and previous work documents. The deed for the house that required regular payments to the bank. Bank account papers identifying their accounts. They each had an account and shared one. Though, he had handled the affairs of people paying the Malfoy's rent. Insurance papers and paperwork for the car. This seemed very normal for him and was completely in the realm of his understanding. This aspect of muggles nearly matched that of the wizarding world which was quite the surprise. Could they be as business minded as the world he knew?

The paperwork was all a scattered mess in the large drawer which irritated him immensely. If they got audited, it would be a disaster! Wincing against the noise from the TV, he found file folders and started to sort all the paperwork properly. Considering that most of the books walled this room, he figured they would have to share the den. If they have to share it, she had better keep it organized, especially after her put it in order.

He was hungry and hurting now. He resigned himself to finding his own food. He had no idea how to prepare something for himself, not even a sandwich. What the hell was she thinking leaving him with nothing? He placed an orange on a plate and took out a knife. He supposed he could do this much. He sliced the orange in rings and then halved them. Apparently he could not do this as well as he though. He cut his fingers and hand several times and wrapped his hand in the tea towel. Now his stomach hurt from being hungry, his head hurt from the stupid picture box, his back hurt since this morning's running around and now his hand bled and stung fiercely. He hated it here! He took his plate of orange slices up to his bedroom. One only ate in bed when they were an invalid. He figured he qualified since he was STILL in his sleeping pants.

He wanted to go home where things made sense. He wanted his mum there to care for him. She was gone though, along with everything else.

He nibbled a few slices of orange as he curled in his bed, leaving the door open to hear everything in the house as best he could over the noise in the living room. The pain would not subside though and that only caused him to lose his appetite. He ground his teeth as he grew hot and cold and nauseous. He pulled his blankets up and wished the pain would subside. Hell, he wished Granger would get back and make it stop. Make all of it stop. Stop the noise. Stop the pain.

Hermione finished setting all her things in the dining room on the table. Annoyed about the blaring TV, yet pleased Draco had explored and not burned down the house, she turned off the cacophony. A knife and some drops of blood in the kitchen alarmed her. "Draco? Draco!" She hurried up the stairs. In his room he lay in the bed, blond hair plastered wet to his face. She saw the sliced oranges on the plate hand eaten and put two and two together. "Oh Draco." His pale blue eyes opened. "Show me your hand." He stuck his towel wrapped hand out from under the blanket. She unwrapped it and tended to his cuts with some items from the bathroom.

He was immeasurable grateful she was there. So much so, he could almost cry. He didn't though. She treated his back and with a damp cloth wiped the sweat that stung him. She smoothed his sweat dampened hair from his face. "I'll get some food for you and bring you the pain medicine." He wasn't sure what her tone of voice was. It wasn't exactly pity, thankfully, but something that made him want her to stay there. He could not voice his request. The neighbour was correct. She did come back, but Draco doubted that it was because of love.

That was a messy emotion he couldn't understand as he had so little of it in his life, same from his mother. After all, among the nobles and pure bloods, marriages were still commonly arranged and not based out of love. Matches were made based on who would bring betterment to the family in some way. It felt so much like breeding programs used for dogs, especially when the occasional inbreeding was engaged in to ensure keeping the blood pure or within the family. Draco hated that and dreaded it. You ended up with unstable people. Bellatrix was a prime example.

_Draco, my son, live… find a way to live and be the change you want to see in the world._

Draco wondered if he was really free enough to do either of those, live… and make change. It was his mother's secret wish for him, a secret they shared.

Hermione stoked the back of Draco's head briefly before making some soup and slices of bread. She brought those up, filled a glass with juice and opened the pill bottle. She worried some about him. Even before Draco had fully rolled over to sit and eat, she left again. She returned. "Draco, here. This is a muggle writing tool. Ink is inside it. I have more should it be emptied." She set down a small spiral notebook and the pen. "I am sorry it took so long for me to clue in that you need a way to speak to me. Write what you need to say." She hoped this helped smooth things a little between them if he was not offended by using muggle means to communicate.

As he ate, she recounted her day to him. She wanted him to know what she had been up to and keep him in the loop as best she could. It also served as a way to introduce muggle ideas and things to Draco. His facial expressions were amusing and made her smile or sometimes giggle. She had never realized before how expressive he really was. He hand covered her mouth as it usually did when she giggled. Draco frowned and reached over, tugging her hand from her face. He avoided her eyes and took his pain meds. She blushed to her own surprise.

She left him to rest for a little while, to let the pain killers kick in. In the meantime, she put things away, cleaned up, cooked a simple meal for herself, and got busy with her reading. It was to her surprise to find Draco standing in the doorway of the dining room. There was a look of disapproval on his face. "What?"

Draco had wasted the first few pages of the little book she gave him experimenting with writing. Standing in the doorway of the dining room, he could not understand why she was working there. He flipped open the little notebook and scribbled with the muggle pen before handing it over to her.

_This is the dining room. It is used for dining. You should be in the study for this._

She read it and laughed. He snatched the book back with annoyance. "Draco, this is the largest table in the house. I need to look at everything while I work. And try to… make sense of some things that make little sense." She waved her hand at this first set of newly opened mail with bills. His eyes followed her gesture, then his hands. She watched as he gathered up all the banking and bills and wandered away. "Hey! Those are important. What are you …" She stopped in the doorway of the den, watching him neatly file them. Then he wrote in the notebook.

It bothered him to have to write, but what choice did he really have? It was too slow for what he wanted to say, Hermione would just have to be patient while he got it all out in his careful penmanship, for honestly, what he considered scribbling was too perfect and beautiful for Hermione to call scribbling.

_You took one useless and pathetic class on arithmancy. You never learned economics, politics, investments, banking structures, business or property management, or anything else that one actually needs to function in the world, including etiquette and appropriate conduct among peers and superiors. Hogwarts fell to plebeian standards when it ceased to teach these and left it up to wizarding families to find suitable summer tutors. From now on, before you render us destitute within a few short months, this is MY domain. Find me the muggle money exchanges and basic details._

He thrust the notebook back to her. She read it, stiffening her shoulders as she usually did before she lost her temper. However, she could only in the end agree with him, though not with his word choices. Actually, she was somewhat relieved that someone knew how to do this because he was right, she didn't and nothing at Hogwarts prepared her for it. "Fine." Draco wasn't sure if he offended her or not.

After a few tense moments, she spoke again. "Since we are down here, we might as well begin with your muggle training since you abandoned the Muggle Studies class at Hogwarts and have no idea how to use things here in the house." He totally paled and she thought he would faint. "We don't need the muggles outside thinking you are an ignorant backwater country bumpkin or plebeian." Just to use his own insulting word back at him. Her satisfaction failed as his eyes rolled back, his knees buckled and he did faint dead away like a girl. She winced as he hit the floor, he desperate attempt to catch him proved not quick enough. What had she said? Was he actually hurt worse than she thought? Maybe she does need to take him back to the hospital.

She fretted over these thoughts as she cradled him, trying to coax him awake. He woke moments later. "Maybe… maybe we will address the muggle stuff in the house… tomorrow."

He swallowed. The memory of the teacher on the dining table, HIS dining table at Malfoy Manor. The memory of Voldamort killing her and his snake Nagini devouring her just before a meal was served to everyone. He took a few sweating gulps of air. He didn't hear Hermione's soothing words, just turned and buried his face into her trying to banish the images from his vision.

Hermione had no idea what happened. His nightmares through the night woke her frequently. She was ever so glad to not have to be anywhere the next day. Her next meeting with Professor Stanton was to be the day after in the late afternoon. Harry called her and she spent some quiet time talking to him. He and bill had to take care of something that came up. He wouldn't be able to come for maybe two more weeks. At her questions of concern, he assured her things were fine and that she was quite safe. He was just… busy.

She spent the time walking Draco through various items in the house, explaining how to use them. She started with basics like the telephone, doorbell, electricity, hot water and heating, the fridge and microwave, and the TV. Draco discovered how similar muggles were to wizards and internally felt amazed at the magic they created without magic. He would never admit he was developing a secret interest. The learning helped occupy his days and keep him from getting bored.

They next big fight came when she taught him about the laundry machines. He was horrified he would have to wash his own clothes! "And the hell do you think I have been doing? You think I like washing your sweaty smelly things! We don't have many clothes. So get used to washing them!" The lesson ended swiftly there. They still argued over the use of the dining room table for research space too. She yelled. He threw things. They both stormed off. Their worlds collided in misunderstandings like this.

The den soon became his personal domain when it wasn't his bedroom. It was how he shut out the muggle world when he was fed up with being mugglified as he called it. "I am not trying to mugglify you!" she yelled through the den door. "I am trying to educate you… you… you ignorant GIT!" The door flew open and the fury painting his face made her think he would actually hit her. He turned away and slammed the door shut again.

As payback, she refused to wash his laundry and he suddenly understood just how few clothing he had. When she was off at the university, he invaded her room and concluded that she too was woefully ill prepared. No wonder she seemed to almost always look like she was wearing the same things to work. She was! It was offensive. They were NOT poor according to their finances. Harry had brilliantly made an arrangement for Draco's account to be funneled into the ministry and refunneled to the muggle bank. It still didn't mean he wanted to squander it, but for the love of one's basic dignity, they needed clothing. How could she hope to impress people by not dressing properly for work! Did she have no pride in herself? This needed correcting immediately. It was embarrassing, to HIM. As his wife, it of course reflected on him.

He had achieved some small measures. They ate breakfast and supper at the dining table. Over one breakfast, he brought the schedule she put up on the fridge door. He needed to make changes there. The fridge was not the location for memos. As it was, bringing books, papers and writing stuff to the dining table was rude, but he had little choice since he could not speak.

_We need to shop for clothing. We can afford it. And we both need proper wardrobes that are not an embarrassment of repetition or a display of second-hand over-used unprofessional attire suitable only for youths from low class families._

He saw her scowl. It was the one that came when he called her a mudblood, and usually just shy of her punching him in the face. He leaned out of reach and scribbled again.

_We are adults without uniforms and need to show so, especially if you are trying to impress people of higher status than you in this world. Grant me the dignity to at least look respectable, me as well as you. Students run around in jeans, professors do not. And I can't be wearing the same three sets of clothing forever._

She finally grinned. She had not been able to convince him to willingly get into the contraption known as the car or mingle in any muggle inhabited locales. "YAY! We go shopping! OH! And we have dinner to plan for guests too so we should get something for that! Harry is coming over and so are Bill and Fleur. They arrive in two days."

Had he known shopping was the easiest way to change her mood, he would have suggested this MUCH earlier in their forced relationship. He was so used to Hermione as the book fiend and intellectual (she should have been sorted into Ravenclaw, honestly) that he forgot sometimes that she was just a teen girl and might actually like the same things other girls her age did.

* * *

A/N – Google Maps is my friend. I am not from England. I have never left the North American continent, nor seen the ocean in person. So, needing to write and situate the story in England, off to Google Maps I went. I even have STREET NAMES! Now that I am done being totally silly, I apologize to anyone who lives in Reading or England for any mistakes I make. I am sure to make some large and small gaffs. Colloquialisms will likely be my main gaffs. Canadian speak is not British speak. There are terms I miss (like loo… I already made that mistake). By the way, for information about the University of Reading (pronounced _Redding_), I went to their website. They have a great video tour. I also perused their History department programs and courses. Alas, I named my professor quite fictitiously. There is no Professor Stanton at the University of Reading at this time.

http:/ www .reading .ac .uk /about /film /about -aboutvid .aspx


	7. Apology

**Discovered in Hiding**

**Passing On – An Apology**

The plot for this story fizzled and failed in my mind. For this I deeply apologize to me readers. Other stories are filling my head with more solid plot lines. I recommend reading them.

If this story inspired you, feel free to adopt it and finish it. Let me know where you choose to take it.

If I get re-inspired, maybe I will come back to it.

Thanks to all of you who took the time to read. Again. I am so sorry for dropping it.

ScaretCougar


	8. Shopping

**Discovered in Hiding**

**Ch. 8: Shopping**

A/N – Yes… very very slowly as with my other stories, I have picked this one up again since no one adopted it and I was starting to miss it a little.

* * *

Draco could not believe he had agreed to immerse himself among the plebeians. Hermione could not believe it either; she figured he would hate the muggles so badly he would not dare set foot outside. She wasn't about to argue with his vanity at this moment.

She buckled him in his seat and once in the driver's seat, fought her inner smug grin. As they drove, she toured him around the neighborhood. She pointed out a variety of places from the corner store, to the grocery store, to the university she was working at, to finally the mall. Draco stared out the window in silence. Hermione could not tell if he was listening to her or ignoring her entirely. He held his chin high and snobbishly and kept silent. Silent. "Dra… Jake?" she self-corrected as a reminder of what they had to call each other in public, "Did you remember to bring a notebook with you?" She wanted to slap the look he gave her right off his face. She just rolled her eyes and parked the car.

Draco tugged his turtle neck shirt slightly to hide his bandages before stepping from the car. There were so many cars here. He didn't mind being driven around and shown everything. He considered it tactical. However, he really wished he could get about on his own. The mall was an indoor cluster of shops. He hated it. He preferred the openness of the street accessible shops of Diagon Alley or of Arthurian Circle if you wanted proper clothing of quality.

It shocked Hermione more than anything when he took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm like a gentleman. It took her a moment more to remember that they are supposed to be married and look it. He apparently was far better and pretending what he was not than she was. Draco tried not to stare at her blush. It made , things inside him squirm, things he was not prepared to explore, things he didn't think were welcome, things he didn't think he deserved.

Hermione could not believe how fussy he was. There were some places he would not remotely even step inside of. One look at a price tag and he would walk them right out. She thought the prices were very reasonable. When she shied at one shop, he decided to go in. Yes, those were clothes more within the quality and price range he expected. She hissed her concern and he just gave her a reproachful look. He approached the sales woman and wrote something on the notepad for her. Hermione almost missed it and her eyes grew wide when she registered his careful script.

_Madame, my wife and I are new to Reading. She has a new position as professor at the university. I am here healing from a wound I incurred on our travels and cannot speak. We require proper attire for our stay and for work. I am not concerned by the cost, just its quality. I trust you know your job well enough to assist us?_

The sales woman called over another sales woman and the two got busy. Hermione was too embarrassed to protest. She could not fathom the costs. Not that her family was necessarily poor, but they only shopped like this for very special occasions, not for everyday clothes. Draco had an excellent eye as he nodded or shook his head at things she tried on. He smiled to have Hermione out of her comfort zone, even within a muggle setting, for a change. This was turning out to be a great deal more fun than Draco anticipated. He was also pleased to have decent clothing of his own. This continued through several shops, including accessories and shows. They dropped bags off at the car twice before they decided it was time for lunch.

Lunch, Draco insisted, was to be in a proper restaurant. He had the business card of one nearby that he had gotten from one of the nice sales women to give him. Writing things was very frustrating, but he would never show it, not in public. It was just slow.

He and Hermione argued in the car for almost thirty minutes about this restaurant. He would scribble and she would yell. He would throw the notebook and she stormed from the car. "I thought you were enjoying this." He wondered what the hell he managed to do this time. He watched her storm away through the parking lot. He could not call her name to call her back. He looked through his notes to see if maybe he used words that were unexpectedly offensive. Sometimes, they just seemed to speak different languages. He sighed. Why was she so upset? Was it the choice of restaurant? Maybe because he did not ask her if she even wanted to go to it? Maybe she did not like French food? He sighed and waited, then started to worry.

Just as he was about to go look for her she sat back in the car and would not look at him. The silent drive back to their home was more awkward than their arguments. She only released her emotions when they got into the house. "Everything is always about you! I will never be good enough! I will always be a mudblood to you! I can't even manage to feed you food you deem worthy! And nothing I wear will ever be good enough for you! I AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!" She ran up the stairs and slammed her door shut, the tears and sobs apparent half way up the stairs.

Nothing of this day was meant to give her that message. Nothing. He hadn't intended to. But he knew as he thought more about it, as he brought in the bags of fancy clothing, that perhaps that was the message he gave even if all he tried to show was that she was so beautiful sometimes in some things. And the restaurant was meant to celebrate what he though was a good morning of shopping. They had history of this argument though. That history could be so easily erased. He realized he had just flaunted his status in her face and rubbed her nose hard in it. The bags sat at his feet at the bottom of the stairs as he looked up the stairs and sighed again.

* * *

A/N – How should he fix this?


End file.
